


Pink Icing

by soulofme



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Eren Yeager, Awkward Levi, Bakery and Coffee Shop, College Student Levi, French Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin) Has A Sweet Tooth, M/M, POV Eren Yeager, according to eren the devil is french, it's just hella awkward honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 05:20:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4552170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulofme/pseuds/soulofme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Satan isn't an evil being with horns and a pitchfork.</p><p>Satan is a college student with a strawberry shortcake obsession.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pink Icing

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this [tumblr post](http://cup-of-hot-coffee.tumblr.com/post/118599158660/job-aus/):  
> 'Your love of strawberry shortcake really doesn’t match your appearance but i still think that’s really cute’ AU

I'm in the middle of texting my sister when Jean hits me on the head with a broom handle. I drop my phone, internally sobbing as I watch it crack right before my eyes. I turn around and grip him by the collar of his stupid polo shirt, yanking him down so that our heights are level.

"What is wrong with you?" I hiss. "You  _know_ my dad isn't gonna buy me a new one!"

"Whoops," he smiles cheekily and effortlessly releases himself from my hold. "But maybe you should, you know,  _work_ and not text your little girlfriend."

"You're disgusting," I say, crouching down to get my phone. "I was texting Mikasa. You know, my sister. The one you have no chance with-"

"Alright!" he interrupts me loudly, causing a smirk to come onto my face. "Let's keep that sort of conversation out of the workplace, yeah?"

"You started it," I say, but I'm glad I won't have to hear him talk about my sister's "absolutely beautiful hair and beautiful eyes and beautiful  _everything_ ". Somewhere behind me, I hear Armin laughing.

I shudder and slide my phone into my pocket. Jean, my other friend Armin, and I are all working at Jean's mother's bakery for the summer. Armin just wants some pocket money, Jean would probably get murdered if he refused his mother's offer, and I'm just... _there_.

Business is obnoxiously slow today. I watch people walk by the bakery as if it doesn't exist. To be honest, it's a little irritating. Don't they know that we have barely above average cupcakes and coffee with half the grinds in it?

Okay, that sounds terrible. But what can you expect from three eighteen year old boys with absolutely  _no_  prior bakery experience? I blame Mrs. Kirschstein for the plummeting sales. Putting the three of us in charge was a grave mistake. I think she said something about punishing us for being irresponsible, but I'm not really sure. She practically yells about everything so it's no surprise that Jean, Armin, and I have developed selective hearing when it comes to her long lectures.

The main reason I'm disappointed by the lack of customers actually doesn't have anything to do with sales. There's this one regular that Jean absolutely  _hates_ and I've been dying to meet him. Apparently, he's a college student who's rude for no apparent reason. He totally ignores the tip jar by the register and he terrifies the other customers. He sits in the corner by the window, totally isolated from the rest of the shop. And in true regular style, he orders the same thing every time (Jean hadn't told me what, but I imagine that it's black coffee and a croissant for some reason).

In short, he's the customer that Jean calls Satan. The only reason I want to meet this Satan guy is because Jean has this habit of over exaggerating everything. It's been like that ever since we were kids, and I'm pretty sure that this is another case of that. But hey, anyone who hates Jean is a friend of mine. I know that sounds bad, but you haven't been friends with the asshole for most of your life.

Jean goes back to sweeping and Armin comes to the front of the store with the now cooled cupcakes. They're blueberry and actually smell pretty good. Armin is a novice baker, but he's been improving considerably. He begins to spread vanilla icing over them while I push Jean away so that he doesn't sweep dirt up onto them.

Honestly, Armin's the only one here improving. Jean still can't make a decent cup of coffee and I still don't know how to properly deal with customers.

Finally, the bell on the door rings. Our heads quickly snap towards it. A guy walks in, his eyes glued to the phone in his hands. I feel of twinge of jealousy as I absently pat the pocket that holds my own damaged phone. I can't see what his face looks like from here, but apparently Jean knows who he is. The broom drops to the floor with a clatter and he grips my shoulder.

"Dude," he hisses. "That's Satan!"

Satan finally raises his eyes. They're grey and I can practically feel them looking into my soul. And not in the romantic way, mind you, but more like the way a lion looks at its prey before pouncing. He definitely looks as angry as Jean says. His eyebrows are already furrowed, and I can tell that if I don't hurry up and serve him he's going to lunge across this counter and murder me. Forget terrifying the other customers; he's terrifying  _me._

Apparently, this is the one time Jean isn't exaggerating.

"I'll have the usual."

I turn to Jean for help only to see that he and Armin are gone. The bastards probably went to hide in the back room. Once Satan is gone, I'm going to kick their asses.

For now, I force a smile onto my face.

"Right, of course," I say.

Like I had imagined so many times before, I grab a croissant from the display and pour him a cup of lukewarm, gritty coffee. No sugar, no cream. Just black coffee to match his black soul (it matches his hair too, but I'm going with soul for now). I slide it across the counter with a trembling smile and try not to cry out for my mother.

"There you go," I say, thankfully not stuttering. 

Satan looks down at the croissant and coffee before giving me a blank stare. 

"You must be new here," he says. His tone is surprisingly  _not_ condescending. He sounds...understanding?

"I'm sorry, what?" I say.

"I told you that I'll have the usual," he says, the corners of his lips twitching. Oh no. Here it is, here's the moment where he curses me out. "I usually get sweet tea and a slice of strawberry shortcake."

I blink at him for a few seconds, the gears in my brain slowly working. Great, so what my imagination thought he would order is totally wrong. I take the croissant and coffee back and hide them behind the display. 

"You're kidding me," I finally say.

"Sorry," he says, actually sounding genuine. His lips do that twitch again.

"I'm sorry!" I say before he can yell. "You're right, I'm new. I'm just working here for the summer because the owner is the mother of my childhood friend. My friend said that you were really mean and scary and so I imagined that you would like black coffee. Because, you know, it matches your soul. And the croissant was there just because I had a dream where Satan was French one time and it stuck. Plus my friend calls you Satan. But you don't want the coffee anyway because Jean is a dumbass and half of the grinds are in there and croissants fucking suck. But if you like them then sorry but-"

"Whoa, whoa," Satan holds his hands up, interrupting my rant. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

"You have a resting bitch face," I say. "It's impossible to not be scared."

He opens his mouth to respond but closes it and shakes his head.

"Sorry, but that's just my face," he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. "And I guess I do come across as kinda mean because of that. But I also get like that when I'm stressed out. I actually hate coffee, it's way too bitter. I don't really like croissants but I am part French so I guess that part was right. I promise that I'm not like Satan in any way."

"Oh. Okay," I say. I'm actually surprised by how gently he had responded to my rant. His lips twitch and I wince. "Please stop doing that."

"What are you talking about?" he asks. 

"You know,  _t_ _hat_ ," I point at his mouth. "Your lips keep twitching and it's making me think that you're gonna curse me out."

Satan's mouth drops open. He looks flustered and I watch him for a few seconds, trying to decipher his half sentences.

"I wasn't...that's not twitching...that was a smile goddamn it! I was  _smiling_!"

"That wasn't a smile!"

"It was," Satan says, sounding a little miserable. Well damn, now I feel bad.

"I'm sorry," I say sincerely. "Maybe you should work on it?"

"I have been."

"I'm sorry," I say again. "Um...do you still want your regular?"

He nods silently. I rub the back of my neck and go to get his order. Luckily for him, we haven't managed to fuck up the shortcakes or tea yet. I pour the tea first and add two teaspoons of sugar. Mrs. Kirschstein has a specific slice size that we're supposed to give customers, but I ignore it and slide a large slice of strawberry shortcake onto a paper plate. I add a dollop of whipped cream and cut a few strawberry slices over the top.

I place the tea and cake onto the counter softly.

"I'm really sorry," I say again.

"It's okay," Satan says, and I try not to laugh as his lips twitch again. He reaches into his pocket for his wallet but I reach out and grab his wrist, surprising us both. "Um-"

"Don't worry about it," I give him my most charming smile. "It's on the house."

"Seriously?" he asks.

"Consider it an apology...again," I say.

Satan nods but pulls out his wallet anyway. He takes a twenty dollar bill and shoves it into the tip jar.

"I forgot to tip one time," he says. "I don't think anyone remembers, but I still feel bad."

Oh my god. This guy's not Satan at all! Even Armin wouldn't feel bad if he forgot to tip once, and he's got us all convinced that he's some sort of angel.

"You're not that bad," I say. Satan pauses in the middle of sipping his tea.

"Thanks...I think," he says. "I'm going to..." he gestures over his shoulder to the tables.

"Oh right yeah. Go ahead," I say.

"Do you want to share this with me?" he holds the cake up. "I can't finish this all on my own."

"Are you sure?" I ask. 

"Yeah," he nods. "Consider it an apology for scaring the crap out of you."

I laugh and sit with him. I find out that he's a year older than me and that he goes to school pretty far from here. He drives forty five minutes to get tea and cake just because "it's the best thing ever". If that's not serious dedication, I don't know what is. He has two siblings named Isabel and Farlan. Once he's done talking, I tell him about Mikasa and Armin and Jean. He laughs when I give Jean's full description of him, and he laughs even  _louder_ when I tell him about my French Satan dream. By the time we're done talking, it's about three minutes to closing time.

"I'm so sorry," he says, shaking his head. "I didn't mean to keep you so long."

"It's fine," I assure him. "I liked talking to you."

"Really?" he asks, and I swear his eyes sparkle. I laugh, nodding.

"Yeah, really," I say. "You're pretty cool."

"You too," he says. He rubs the back of his neck. "I have a huge exam coming up so I should probably go. But I'd like to see you again."

"You can come by any time," I say.

"Oh, uh, that's not really what I meant," he says. "Uh...would you like to go on a date with me?"

My jaw drops open. Holy shit. This is the first time anyone's ever asked me out.

"You're asking me on a date?" I squeak.

"If you want to go," he says. My mouth feels really dry all of a sudden.

"Y-Yeah," I stammer. "That'd be nice."

"Yeah?" he looks even happier. "Awesome."

"But I have one condition," I say. He raises an eyebrow.

"What is it?"

"Please tell me your name," I say. "I keep calling you Satan in my head and I feel really bad."

"Oh, it's Levi," he says. "And you are...?"

"Eren," I say quickly. "So I'll see you?"

"Yeah, how about Friday? I can pick you up from here."

"Sounds good," I say.

Levi nods and waves to me as he walks away. I place my hand against my chest, feeling the rapid beating of my heart against my palm. I clean up the bakery in a daze, still not over my interactions with Satan- no,  _Levi_.

"Eren!"

I turn to see Jean and Armin poking their heads out of the backroom.

"You can come out of there," I roll my eyes. "The coast is clear."

They breathe twin sighs of relief and walk up to me.

"You're still in one piece," Armin says. I poke Jean in the middle of his chest.

"I don't know what you were talking about," I say. "He's really sweet."

"Wait, we  _are_ talking about Satan, right?" he asks, his eyes wide.

"Yeah, asshole. You caught him on a bad day. He felt so bad for not tipping that he put a twenty in the jar. Not even Armin would do that."

"That's true," Armin admits. Jean rolls his eyes.

"Whatever, Satan still-"

"Levi."

"Huh?" Jean and Armin both look at me with wide eyes.

I smirk and lean against the counter, lifting the last forkful of strawberry shortcake up to my mouth.

"His name's Levi," I say. "And I have a date with him on Friday."

It's silent for around three seconds. And then...

" _What_?!"

I chuckle and set the plate down. Armin stares at it while Jean looks like he's about to pass out.

"You're joking, right?" Armin asks. I shake my head.

"Nope, I'm being serious," I reply. "Like I said, he's really sweet."

"Right," Jean doesn't sound convinced. Suddenly, his eyes widen even more. "Whoa, what the fuck? Why is like half the strawberry shortcake missing?"

He points at the display. 

"Ah, right," I nod. "Levi really likes strawberry shortcake and sweet tea. Apparently, that's his usual. Who would have thought?"

Jean murmurs something under his breath and reclaims his broom, sweeping crumbs off of the ground.

"I can't believe this," he says.

"Yeah, and I can't believe that I still listen to you after all these years," I snort.

"Whatever man," Jean shakes his head. "Have fun on your date with Satan."

"Levi," I correct again, my heart doing a little jump at the name. "And I will."

Armin watches as Jean stomps off before turning to me.

"Should I put more strawberry shortcake in the display?" he asks with a grin.

I nod, the smile on my face impossible to get rid of.

"Definitely."

**Author's Note:**

> I really had a dream that the devil was French one time no joke


End file.
